


The Tables Turn

by KassieProphet



Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [31]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost B.C.
Genre: D/s, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Restraints, Spanking, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23841877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassieProphet/pseuds/KassieProphet
Summary: Tumblr Prompt:Papa ii with a woman who tends to be very flirty with him, and acts very dom like but as soon as he gets her in bed she’s all his, and she’s a whimpering mess for him.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus II/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ghost Tumblr Prompts [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536134
Comments: 46
Kudos: 26





	The Tables Turn

Papa II would never show it publicly, but he’s a salivating mess for you. He sees the way you act: how you order men around to get what you want and how you swing your hips with the air of a woman who knows she’s hot shit. But he sees through you. He  _knows_ you’re just begging to be put in your place by a man who can handle you—and he knows he  _is_ that man. He can’t wait to get you into his playroom and secured into some tight restraints. He’ll show you it’s high time you give someone else what they want, and the only time those hips of yours will be swinging is from his ropes.

But you have to want it. He’s not going to chase you, and he’s not going to seduce you.

So when you turn your attentions on him, he’s already planning out how he’s going to take you apart.

You jump up on his desk as you deliver papers to him and slap down a picture of lingerie from a magazine.

“Oh, Papa—if only I had a set of these, I’d wear them for you,” you say as you wink and sashay away.

You saunter over to his table at the mess hall—bending over to show your décolletage to best advantage—and take up a piece of his premium-cut, rare steak to slowly bite down on it, letting the juice dribble down your chin.

“Yummy.” You wipe up the juice with your index finger and press it to his lips. “I do love some choice meat, don’t you?”

When you see him in a white, 3-piece suit, you meander by, plucking at the fabric.

“Very nice, Papa—but I think the black suits you better.” 

When you knock a pen off his desk, it’s  _him_ you expect to do the bend and snap.

“Oops. Would you get that for me, Papa?”

And Papa II will play your game … for now.

He’ll suck your insistent finger into his mouth in front of the Senior Clergy at his table. He’ll change and wear his black suit to the nightly sermon. He’ll squat down on his ancient knees, hiking up his slacks, to offer you the pen you displaced.

He’ll call your bluff, sending a Ghoul to your quarters with an expensive-looking garment box—the La Perla set you wanted nestled within in soft tissue paper.

He’ll even let you drive as you arrive at his door in your habit with only the red lingerie on underneath. 

As you pull the habit off and do a little spin. 

As you straddle him in his favorite chair. 

As you take his hands and run them up the stockings 

… the garters 

… the panties 

… the bustier.

“What do you think, Papa? I think they fit me quite well. You have quite the eye.”

“ _Sí_ , I am glad they fit,  _tesoro_ .”

But if you were waiting for him to ravish you then and there, well. That’s his game.

“Would you like to see them on your floor, Papa?”

He  _tsks_ .

“Such things of quality ought to be treated with more respect, Sister. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do.”

“I treat the things I own with care and respect.”

He grasps your chin.

“Would you like to be owned,  _tesoro_ ?

“Yes, Papa …” you breath.

“Mmm. That’s good to know.” He lets go of your chin. “If that’s all, Sister, I have a mountain of paperwork … as you can see.”

He gestures at a pile of papers on his desk.

“Of course, Papa.”

As you’re climbing off his lap, face burning, and collecting your habit he adds,

“Ah. If you could help me,  _tesoro_ ? The file on top?”

You see that it’s a manilla envelope with your name scrawled across it in his elegant calligraphy.

“Please take that and file it accordingly, Sister.”

You snatch it up greedily.

“Yes, Papa.”

When you get back to your quarters, you open the envelope with trembling anticipation—it’s exactly what you think it is: Papa II’s list of rules and a checklist for you to fill out. It’s so overwhelming that you have to put the packet down and take a turn about your quarters.

Once you’ve walked off the nervous energy, you sit down at your meager desk to fill out his forms.

The next morning a Ghoul knocks on your door to collect the packet, and by noon you have another garment box—this one is full of black lingerie and instructions for playtime.

You arrive at Papa II’s playroom—in your robe and black lingerie—promptly, so when he opens the door—in his vest with his shirtsleeves rolled up—you’re already there.

“ _Bene_ ,  _bene_ . Do come in, Sister.”

Once you’re inside, he closes the door and gestures at your robe. 

“May I?”

You let him shrug you out of the garment, which he hangs on a hook. He takes a minute to admire your form—his gloved fingertips ghosting over the lace—before he’s barking out orders.

“Over to the bed,  _tesoro_ . Stand there.”

You hurry to obey, full of eager anticipation. He saunters after you, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Now. Do you know what’s going to happen next?”

“Correction.”

“ _Sí_ . And can you tell me why?”

“For disrespecting your position,” you say, trying to twist the smirk off your face.

“Hmm. You do not seem contrite, yet. We shall fix that.” He pats his lap. “Face down,  _tesoro_ .”

You drape yourself over his lap, placing your palms on the floor in front of you. Papa II pets the back of your head, then rubs his leather-clad hand over your rump before yanking down your panties.

“Since it is our first time, I will go easy on you. You’ll get 5 for each infraction. So that’s 20. I want you to be a good girl and stay still, or I will start at the beginning.”

His gloved palm comes down firm on your ass, and you gasp out at the thrill. He doesn’t pause between his alternating swats—doesn’t try to rub out the sting at all—and you’re soon finding it hard not to squirm against him, the delicious sting turning into a hot throb. You don’t even realize that your hand had come up until he slaps it.

“Ah ah ah,  _tesoro_ . What did we say? Now I must start over.”

You whimper. “But, Papa! I was so good!”

“ _Mia cara_ , I was very clear. Now, here we go.”

This time when his hand comes down, your gasp at the burn of his palm on your sore ass.

“Oh! Papa! Oh— _please_ !” you whine against his deaf ears. You’re tensing and squirming so much that he actually stops and places a hand on your back. 

“Settle,” he commands.

You sniff and wipe away the tears leaking from your eyes, but then take a deep breath and try to relax. When he starts up again, however, you still can’t help but cry out.

“Oh! Ah!  _Papa_ .”

“Ah, you make such lovely sounds,  _tesoro_ . I can’t wait to hear how you’ll sing when we introduce the paddle.”

When he’s done, you’re a panting, snotty mess, but he cuddles you up into his arm, placing kisses on your face.

“There now,” he says, dabbing at your face with a monogrammed handkerchief. “You were Papa’s very good girl. You took your correction so well. I’m so proud of you.”

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. He lets you stay like that until you relax in his arms.

“Are you ready for the next part,  _tesoro_ ?” he asks while rubbing your back.

You sigh contentedly.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Up on the bed, then.”

You extract yourself from his lap and crawl onto the bed. The padded restraints are already set up, and you let Papa II buckle them around your wrists. He leans into your space as if to kiss you, but then you feel the  _pop pop pop pop_ as he unlatches your garter straps; he slowly removes your panties the rest of the way before he secures your ankles, a thumb running lightly over each bone. 

“Good?” he asks you. You tug on each to test them, then nod.

Papa II hums in approval, then wanders over to his drawers, extracting a dual vibrator. 

You gulp.

He holds it up so you can see it before coating it in lube.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He turns the vibrator on, then inserts the one end into you, positioning the other against your clit. You cry out and jerk against your restraints.

“Oh Lucifer! Oh oh oh!”

The vibrations are intense and relentless, making your toes curl and your back bow. You twist and squirm, trying to get away from the throbbing pleasure that’s almost painful. A thumb and forefinger pinch a nipple through your bustier, and you scream out as the sensation goes right to your bubbling clit.

“Hmm,” says Papa II clinically. “Shall we bring out the clamps?”

You just let out a long whine as you twist and jolt. He pinches your other nipple harder, and then you’re cumming.

“Papa! Papa!  _Papa_ !” you scream in pleading or benediction, you don’t know.

There’s a sudden warmth between your legs, but you barely notice because of the vibrator. Is still. Going. Your hands are grasping at empty air and your heels are digging into the comforter as you howl at the oversensitivity.

“Ah. A squirter,” is all Papa II says in his removed manner.

Your pussy is throbbing and your clit is pulsing—you climax again with a sharp jolt. There’s a  _fuck_ on your lips, but all that makes it out is a  _ffff_ noise and some spittle.

“There we go. Just 3 more,  _cara_ .”

You turn your head and sob into your arm as you buck your hips in an effort to get away from the buzzing that’s now bone deep.

“Ah … Ah …  _AH_ !” you pant, your whole body feeling like one big clit. At this point you’re wailing, but Papa II places a hand on your thigh, and it grounds you. You turn your wet, pleading eyes at him, a whine emitting from your throat.

“My good girl. You can do it. Do it for your Papa.”

You close your eyes and loll about on the bed, the spasm of your clit and the clench of your walls slowly overtaking your conscious thought. You’re aware of your body jerking, but you feel utterly removed from it as the waves of pleasure quicken the blood in your veins for a duration that seems to go on forever.

And then everything stops.

You come down from the Universe, the galaxy, the solar system, and finally settle back on Earth. When you open your eyes, you’re out of the restraints, the vibrator is gone, and you’re leaning against Papa’s chest as he gently rubs your wrists.

“Mmm,” you grunt.

“Ah-ha. There’s my  _piccolo tesoro_ . How are we feeling?”

“ _Mmmmm_ .”

Papa II chuckles at you. Your head lolls over and you see that his soft cock is out of his slacks and drooling cum; you make a noise of displeasure, and Papa  _tsks_ .

“None of that, now. You have not earned my cock this time,  _mia cara_ . Perhaps next time, yes? But—you may clean it up, if you so wish.”

Eagerly, you roll toward his cock and take the soft thing in your mouth, rolling it around your tongue and lapping at the cum on his cockhead.

“Hmm,” he says as he pets your head. “Next time I think I’ll have you warm my cock. But now, I think a bubble bath is in order.”


End file.
